


set fire to the rain

by astarisms



Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gratuitous Smut, Rain Sex, Self-Indulgent, mostly just continuing along the vein of writing what i want to see <3, post-eog, so some implied spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25723606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astarisms/pseuds/astarisms
Summary: in the depths of summer, when the heat carried over into the night, he still burned with all the force of a midwinter fire. some nights the heat was unbearable.but tonight, the rain helped.
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri e-Nahid
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	set fire to the rain

Nahri could appreciate the appeal of cloudless summer days, where the sun shone brightly overhead, scorching the earth and all its inhabitants. The day’s heat had been a welcome reprieve from chilly, shivering nights in Cairo, though she would be lying if she said she hadn’t had her fair share of complaints against it, as well—Yaqub always had liked to point out how much she complained simply for the sake of complaining, though it hardly stopped her.

She often preferred the heat to chillier weather, too many nights spent under threadbare blankets and faded impressions of warm beds giving her an aversion to the cold she doubted she would ever truly shake. But Creator, even she had her limits.

In the depths of summer, when the heat carried over into the night, Dara still burned with all the force of a midwinter fire. And though the simple domesticity of having him by her side, of waking up to him—a future she would never have believed for herself so many years ago—still makes her heart flutter like an infatuated adolescent, some nights the heat was unbearable. 

Sticky with sweat, she rolled out of bed, pulling her gown away from her skin where it clung. She glanced back at Dara, slumbering peacefully. The nightmares that had ensnared him often before were less frequent now, but the sight of his relaxed features, the rise and fall of his chest with every breath, still made her heart ache. She remembered all too well a time when sleep hadn’t come easily to him, a time when his breathing had been nothing more than muscle memory in a body that no longer beat with life.

With the light-footedness she had acquired in her formative years, stealing between merchant stalls and plucking jewels from pockets, she forfeited their room, slipping soundlessly out of the house and into the small, adjacent garden. She had tried to replicate the palace gardens, albeit on a smaller scale, and though it was still a work in progress, she was proud of how far it had come. Tending to it gave her a sense of peace, a connection to the father she’d never known but who had given his life to save hers.

It was a cloudy night, and the moonlight was minimal except for a few beams filtering weakly through the thick cover, so Nahri maneuvered the path by memory. It was still hot, but not oppressively so, and the breeze that whispered through the leaves of her budding orange trees carried the scent of rain.

She found the low bench tucked into the back wall between two trees and took a deep breath, lifting her hair off the back of her neck, the wind cooling the sweat slicking her skin. With a sigh, she leaned back and closed her eyes, the tranquility of the night in the countryside washing over her. It was nights like these she did not miss the bustle of the city so much. Out here, she felt content to just _exist_ , without someone needing her attention every time she so much as breathed.

Daevabad would always call her back, but not tonight. Tonight she was just Nahri, and the sky and this garden and the breeze were all hers.

“May I join you?” 

The soft-spoken question pulled her out of her head, back into the present. When she opened her eyes again, she wasn’t sure if it had been minutes or hours since she’d ventured outside, but the sky was still dark, the clouds still thick enough overhead she couldn’t track their movement, and her gown still damp with cooling sweat in some places, so it couldn’t have been too long.

“Of course.” She shifted on the bench to make room for him, and he took a seat next to her. Out here, his smouldering heat wasn’t so bad, his closeness a welcome thing. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” he said, a little too quickly, rubbing his hands down his thighs. Then, again, “no.”

Nahri raised an eyebrow at him.

“You might have been hibernating for how deeply you were sleeping when I got up,” she teased lightly despite the concern his response prompted, nudging his shoulder with hers. “What could have possibly happened in the little time I’ve been out here?”

For a moment, she thought he would shutter. It didn’t happen often—Dara was as open a book as they came—but sometimes, even now, he was loath to share the weight on his shoulders, as if it hurt him more to ask her to share his burdens. But then he sighed, and looked at her with a weak half-smile. 

“Nightmares,” he said simply, and she frowned, reaching out to take his hand. He looked down at them, sweeping his thumb over the back of hers before he threaded their fingers together. 

“It’s been awhile.”

“Ah, yes…” He did not say more, and Nahri waited, knowing he would tell her if and when he was ready. A long minute passed before he spoke again. “As it turns out, waking up and finding that my wife is gone and that this life was only a cruel dream of what could have been are fears that haunt me even in my sleep.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her heart breaking for him. “Oh, Dara, I’m sorry—”

“Do not apologize,” he interrupted before she could finish the thought, squeezing her hand. “It is no fault of yours, my love.” The shadow disappeared from his face, and he lifted their fingers to his mouth to brush his burning lips over her knuckles, an amused light stealing into his eyes. “After all, one good look at you tells me it is, at least in part, my own fault you were driven from our bed.”

Nahri leaned back, her heart still beating a painful rhythm at his confession, but unable to help the way her lips curved at his comment.

“Oh? Are you getting such a good look in the dark, husband?”

His eyes brightened on her, and her shiver had nothing to do with how the breeze had cooled the moisture on her gown and her skin. Too bright to stare into, like looking into the sun, she had to look away from him, but she could still feel his appraisal of her, his gaze scalding her, warming her blood all over again.

“Perhaps I am just well-enough acquainted with the subject matter to fill in the gaps where my vision fails,” he said lowly, and Nahri could not fight the heat that unspooled low in her belly at the words, her heart fluttering wildly. He smiled, a wicked gleam in his eyes, leaning back a little himself. “Or perhaps it is just that you and our bed both reek of sweat.”

Nahri drew up, indignant. 

“And you call me rude,” she protested in mock offense, forcing down her own smile.

“If I am rude, it is only because I have learned from the best,” he teased softly, and all complaints of any heat but the one sparked by the way he was looking at her and the tangle of their fingers and their easy back and forth were swept away. She tugged him closer with an exaggerated sigh, tilting her face up to meet his eyes again.

“Infuriating man,” she chided gently. “What am I going to do with you?”

His eyes softened at the corners with desire, with longing, all traces of his nightmare vanished.

“Whatever you wish, wife.”

She kissed him. 

He sighed against her lips, reaching out to pull her closer, and she let him drag her back into the burning circle of his arms, the press of his skin against hers scalding. She untangled her fingers from his to thread hers through his hair, and his rose to cup her cheek.

She deepened the kiss, briefly, before she felt new moisture rolling down her temple. Smothering a frustrated groan, she pulled back with great reluctance—the stars were not aligned in her favor tonight, however they hid behind the clouds, if she could not even indulge in her husband without risking heat stroke.

But then she heard a soft sizzle, felt another drop against her arm, and looked up, startled. Another droplet hit her face, and then another, faster and faster as the sky opened. She dropped her gaze back to Dara, and he looked just as shocked as her as the rain began coming too quickly for it to evaporate off of his skin before he was covered in more. She laughed in delighted surprise, before grabbing the collar of his tunic and pulling him back to her.

 _Apologies to the stars,_ she thought as his lips met hers again, his stupefied gasp making her head swim. And then his fingers were on her hips again, burning through the thin fabric that was quickly becoming soaked through. She shifted, gathering the skirt in one hand and pulling it up around her thighs so she could straddle him. 

He moaned, and, her own blood heating, she reached up to tangle her fingers in his damp hair, pressing their hips together. He cursed lowly, his hands clutching her tighter, bringing her more firmly against him. She hummed in approval, smoothing her hands down the back of his neck, his back, until she could grip his wet tunic enough to begin easing it up and over his head. 

“Here?” he asked, more out of courtesy than concern, unable to hide the amusement in his voice even as he broke away to let her remove it. She deposited it on the ground, ducking her head, and then he felt her smile against his jaw, all soft lips and grazing teeth.

“We can return to bed where we can sleep on opposite sides and I can create an even bigger puddle of sweat, if you’d prefer,” she said lightly, nipping at his chin. “I believe this might be the marid’s apology. You should be kinder to them.” He laughed at her joke, and then she was kissing him again, running her fingers over the newly bared skin, grazing the muscle, tracing his tattoos. 

And then his hands were on her thighs, and her breath caught in her throat. His fingers traced the skin where the hem of her gown clung wetly, all but transparent now, and she pressed closer to him. He had broken their kiss again, in favor of leaving a scorching trail down her neck, and she clung to his shoulders, letting her head fall back for him. 

He caught a raindrop with his tongue at the base of her throat, retracing its path up to the spot beneath her ear, and Nahri could not be held accountable for her moan, or the way her hips ground against his.

“Afshin,” she started, her voice trembling, “I swear, if you don’t _touch_ me—”

She didn’t get to finish the thought, because he made a pained sound, and then his fingers dove beneath her gown, skimming her hips, her waist, pushing the soaked material up, up, even as his mouth moved down, down, until his lips closed over a peaked nipple through the fabric, his heat searing her rain-cooled skin. She gasped again, nails carving half moons into his back.

He traced the bud with his tongue, and her mind went blissfully blank, her thoughts reduced to the feeling of his hands and mouth on her and the press of his cock between her thighs. She rolled her hips into his again, and the low, guttural groan torn from him in response made her stomach tighten. 

“You have stolen all reason from me, little thief.”

“What?” she asked breathlessly, feigning confusion. “Are you insinuating that fucking your wife in the middle of a storm in her garden is _un_ reasonable?” 

“I am insinuating, _wife,_ that you make me lose my head.” This time, it was him who ground his hips up into hers, and she shivered, her mouth falling open in a soundless moan. He eased her gown the rest of the way up, his fingertips skimming her ribs, the sides of her breasts, until it was over her head and discarded unceremoniously beside his tunic. 

She threaded her fingers back through his hair, drawing in closer to him, until they were chest to chest and she could count every raindrop caught in his lashes. 

“It’s a good thing it’s so large, then, yes?” she said, dark eyes bright with mirth, her lips a breath away from his as her hand crept between them. “You should have no trouble finding it again, my love.” Her fingers slipped underneath the waistband of his trousers, brushing hot, hard flesh, and he jolted, a strangled sound forcing its way out of his throat. He dropped his head and murmured a prayer into her skin, kissing away the droplets running in rivulets down her neck and across her shoulders. 

She grazed the length of his cock with a featherlight touch, relishing the way he trembled beneath her. How powerful it made her feel, to know she had the means to force him to his knees, but that she needed nothing but her person to bring him there. She wrapped her fingers around him, shifting back on his thighs to get a better grip and to relieve her shins and knees of her weight on the unyielding stone bench. Turning her head, she kissed the mark on his temple, and worked him in the firm, slow strokes she knew unraveled him.

He moaned, the sound muffled in the bend where her throat met her shoulder, nearly drowned out in the rush of the downpour around them. But Nahri caught it, felt it against her skin, and she nearly moaned herself, the heat in her belly turning molten, her thighs slick with more than just the rain.

And then his fingers were between them, teasing her folds with a barely-there touch, as she had done him, and she faltered, gasping. His other hand curled around her hip, keeping her in place, even as she rocked against his hand. He resumed his burning kisses across her shoulders, down her chest, running his middle finger lightly down her slit, and she could not help the embarrassing sound she made, one he surely heard since she was still at his ear. 

He repeated the motion, though this time he completed it by sinking his finger inside of her warmth, exhaling noisily at the way she clenched around him. Just as she knew how to unravel him, he was intimately aware of how to drive her to the brink, and when a second finger joined the first, curling just so, she bent her head, sinking her teeth into his shoulder to smother her cry. He hissed in equal parts pleasure and pain, and added a third, the heel of his palm rubbing against her clit with every thrust. 

Not one to be outdone, she redoubled her efforts on his cock, squeezing the head in the way she had learned brought him to orgasm quicker than any other of her efforts. This time, it was him that stumbled, swearing loudly, and the hand on her hip disappeared, snatching her wrist and staying her hand. Nahri pulled back, narrowing her eyes at him, but he only shook his head, his expression pained.

“I do not want… not like this,” he said, his voice hoarse, his grip loosening on her. Nahri understood immediately, her glare softening as her breath caught. But even though she knew what he meant, she still wanted to hear him say it. She released him, dancing her fingers up his stomach and chest, entranced by the way the muscles rippled beneath her touch, until she could wrap her arms around his neck.

Brushing her lips against his, she whispered, “then how do you want, Afshin? Tell me.” 

He groaned, his hand returning to her hip and squeezing, though it seemed more to steady himself than her. 

“Inside of you,” he said, his voice mimicking the low rumbling of the thunder overhead. Nahri thought she saw a little color high on his cheekbones, and she very nearly lost all sense of self, the ragged admission paired with the blush driving her wild. Creator help her, the way she loved this man would be her ruin. 

“What’s stopping you?”

There was a pause, nothing but their heavy breathing and the dim roar of the rain and the distant clap of thunder. Nahri lifted an eyebrow at him, her eyes lit with challenge, and he inhaled sharply. 

Then his hands were under her thighs, lifting her off his lap as easily as if she were a doll. He whirled, clearing the bench with little effort, and with a speed that left her breathless, she was pressed against the smooth stone of her garden wall. The cool, wet stone at her back was a welcome contrast to the heat of him at her front, and she locked her legs around his waist, toeing at the waistband of his trousers. 

One hand holding her up, he braced himself against the wall with the other, bending his head against hers, water dripping from his hair, streaming from his face, evaporating on his skin, making the air heavy with steam. Nahri reached up, taking his face between her hands, and kissed him again, just as she pushed and rid him of the rest of his clothing. 

He reached between them, guiding himself to her entrance, and she arched. He stopped, and she bit his bottom lip in protest, using what she could of her leverage to rock her hips against his.

“Dara—” she started in warning, but before she could finish, he thrust upward, burying himself inside of her. This time, she did cry out, her head falling back against the wall. He groaned again, and stilled, dropping his head. He kissed her throat once and then rested his forehead against her shoulder, shuddering. “Dara,” she said again, pleading this time, smoothing her hands over the back of his neck, his shoulder blades, and there was little else he could do besides draw in a shaky breath, withdraw, and then plunge back into her.

She moaned, twisting her fingers through the wet locks of his hair as he found his rhythm, the one that made her mind go blank and her eyes roll back. Already hazy with the remnants of pleasure his fingers had wrought on her, it was all too easy to get lost in the feel of him inside of her, hitting all the spots that made her toes curl. 

And then he was kissing her again, branding her chest with his mouth, laving attention on the nipple he had neglected earlier. Nahri tightened her fingers in his hair, struggling to meet his pace when he was so thoroughly undoing her, until she was _undone_.

It happened too quickly, her climax rushing up to consume her, to consume them both with the way her walls hugged his cock in the throes of her orgasm. Stars burst before her eyes, and she had the dim impression that that couldn’t be right, because she could not see any stars tonight, but the thought was quickly swept away, her body thrumming with the aftershocks of ecstasy.

But though he was trembling, he was not done, and clearly he was not done with her, either. Adjusting his grip on her, he pressed her harder into the wall so he could slip his hand between them, rubbing her clit in maddening circles. Her brows creased, and her expression crumpled, still sensitive from the first and knowing her husband well enough to know that he would not stop until giving her a second. He resumed his pace with a great deal of effort, and Nahri’s nails cut into his skin.

Short of breath, there was little she could do besides tilt her face up to the sky, keep her own shaking thighs clasped around his waist, and murmur half coherent encouragements through broken moans. And when she fell apart again, his name the only thing that made any sense, every nerve ending alight, this time he was right there with her.

But when Dara broke, he broke spectacularly. Despite its volume, the thunder that cracked at the same moment was a whisper compared to the sound of her own name on his lips, a passionate prayer that sent another round of shivers down her spine. He clutched at her as he came, spilling inside of her, and she moaned softly, dropping her head to his shoulder, running her hands over his back as they both struggled to catch their breath.

Dara recovered first, and carefully pulled back. He kissed her forehead, slipping out of her and easing her legs from around him. Nahri grimaced at the sticky warmth coating the inside of her thighs, and he noticed. 

“Come,” he murmured, taking her hand, and though he seemed like he had more to say, she cut him off before he could continue, unable to help herself.

“I did,” she said cheekily, stepping lightly over the muddy patches of ground. “Quite wonderfully. Twice, in fact, if you hadn’t noticed.” His eyes lit with amusement, though his cheeks colored again. He bent to pick up their clothes, which were more puddle than clothes now, and Nahri admired the view with a pleased sigh. 

“You look at me the same way you look at kebabs in the Grand Bazaar,” he teased when he straightened, and Nahri was much too sated to be embarrassed caught looking at what was hers anyways. She licked her lips with a salacious smile, unabashed.

“You are my husband. It is my Creator-given right to ogle you.” He laughed, pulling her into his side and pressing a kiss to her temple. The warmth she felt at the tenderness, at the love and intimacy contained in the action, was a different kind entirely—one she had long since learned to stop being afraid of.

Nahri threaded her fingers through his, and let him lead her back inside.


End file.
